One Night
by xhere.there.nowherex
Summary: AU One-shot about teenage!Peter and teenage!Olivia.


**This is just a little AU one-shot that has been nagging at me for a VERY long time...**

**Hope you enjoy it...**

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"Livvy?" a timid voice calls from the door frame.

"Yeah, Rach?" you respond as you finish applying your mascara.

"Livvy, where are you going?" your little sister questions.

You turn and you smile at her and you tell her, "I'm just going out with my friends."

You're sixteen and she's twelve. Your mother is dead, has been for two years. You're living with your aunt, but you still feel responsible for her. She's your little sister after all, and your mother is gone, and you made a promise.

"Can I go with you, Livvy?" Rachel's voice is soft, and you can tell she's tired.

"No, silly. We're going to the movies and then out for pizza. I won't be back until way after your bedtime," you repeat the lie you've told to your aunt dozens of times prior to this evening.

Your little sister pouts at you, and asks sweetly, "Will you tuck me in and read me a story, Livvy? Please?"

You oblige because you'll always have time for her, no matter what. You're almost through reading to her from _To Kill a Mockingbird_, required reading for your English class that also suits as a bedtime story, because it has to, and you've always been good at multitasking. Suddenly, you hear the harsh sounds of a horn beeping and the few friends you do have hollering for you to hurry up and come out. You close the book, kiss your sister on the forehead, and turn out the light. As you walk out of the door to her bedroom, you hear her tell you to have fun. On your way out of the house, your aunt tells you to be safe, have fun, and hands you change for the payphone in case you need to call. You kiss her cheek and she smiles, because she can trust you, and you'd never lie to her. But you are lying to her, and it feels wrong. However, the horn sounds again, and you're tired of being boring and safe, and you figure that if for just one night you're deceptive and you go out and have fun, that it won't hurt. It's just this once, really, and you're a good girl. You can take care of yourself. The door opens and you slide in next to the one person other than your sister that you can call "best friend" and she giggles, excited that you're finally breaking some rules. Her name is Sarah, and her laughter is contagious. Soon you're lost in a fit of giggles just as silly as hers. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you acknowledge how good it feels to laugh again.

Two hours later finds you staring at the counter of the bar, tracing the pattern on it with your fingers. The music is loud and you can feel the bass pounding in your chest. You glance around the room, and observe silently as your friends dance with guys who look like they haven't bathed in two days, with spikey hair and frosted tips. You shift on your feet, which are beginning to ache, and you almost regret wearing platforms. You watch as some ape-like idiot walks up to you with a cocksure grin plastered to his face. Suddenly, your leather miniskirt and tube top feel like a loin cloth and a seashell bra and you're feeling rather exposed. A dissatisfied groan escapes your lips as you realize he's interested in you, for reasons you will never understand. You down what little whiskey is left in your glass, which you got through using your fake I.D. and a little flirting with the bartender, and grimace.

"Now, honey," he slurs out, "I know your feet must be tired, because you been runnin' through my mind all day."

You want to laugh at the irony, but instead you deadpan, and turn away from him to survey the crowd. Maybe if you can lock eyes with one of your friends, they'll help you escape this bozo. No luck, though, because they're all distracted and dancing. He whispers a few more cheesy pick-up lines in your ear, and rubs up against you. Then again. You are thoroughly disgusted and you want to get out of here, but you can't leave without your ride, and your ride, a girl named Gabby, is nowhere to be seen now. He rests a hand on your shoulder and you visibly shudder in disdain. You turn to give this asshole a piece of your mind when you feel an arm around your shoulder.

"There you are baby," you hear a voice say confidently, as if he's been looking for you all night.

You blink stupidly for a moment and turn to appraise the young man of about seventeen, who has handsomely defined features and possibly the most stunning blue eyes you've ever seen. Before you can think or react, his lips are moving against yours. It only takes you a second to realize what he's doing, and when he finally pulls back, you smile at him like you've known him for more than thirty seconds.

He smirks at you and teases, "You really need to stop wandering off while we're out."

"I got thirsty," you retort, indicating your empty glass.

The two of you share a laugh, and you're fairly impressed with how easy it is to fake it in front of this pig.

The young man eyes the other up and down, and asks threateningly, "We got a problem here, buddy?"

"No," huffs the older man, presumably in his twenties, "not yet we don't." He stalks off.

After he's sure the other guy is gone, he removes his arm from around your shoulders. You expect him to just disappear into the night, but instead, he's holding a hand out to you expectantly. You stare at him, incredulous.

"What?" he smiles, and it's charming, "You at least owe me a dance for saving your ass."

"I didn't need saving," you snap. He shakes his head, still smiling.

You glare at him as you accept his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, and spins you. You can't help the laugh that escapes your lips as you sway to the music with him.

_What is love_

_Baby don't hurt me_

_Don't hurt me_

_no more_

_Baby don't hurt me_

_Don't hurt me_

_no more_

_What is love_

_Yeah_

_Oh I don't know_

_why you're not fair_

_I give you my love_

_but you don't care_

_So what is right_

_and what is wrong_

_gimme a sign_

_Oh I don't know_

_what can I do_

_what else can I say_

_it's up to you_

_I know we're one_

_just me and you_

_I can't go on_

_When we are together_

_I need you forever_

_Is it love?_

Once the song is through, you make your way back up to the bar, and he openhandedly pats the counter, signaling for the bartender to send a round of drinks your way. The bartender winks, nods, and fills up two glasses. You eye him with a little more amazement than you'd like.

"You know the bartender?" you ask naively.

"Yeah, he's a friend of mine," he answers somewhat cryptically, not offering further explanation.

You nod, follow him to a table, and spend the majority of your night talking and laughing with the first genuine male being you've come across since your father. Just after eleven-thirty, he eyes the time and tells you he has to leave. You smile as he walks away, and almost instantly your girlfriends rush up to you and demand every detail of your time spent with the devishly cute boy. You play it cool and shake it off like it's nothing, and fifteen minutes later, they decide it's time to leave. You grab your handbag, leave a tip on the bar, and stumble as Sarah drags you out of the club. You and your friends are heading towards an alley to get back to the car. As you and your friends pass by the alley, you hear what is undoubtedly a nasty scruffle taking place. Sarah, ever curious, peers down the alley and cups a hand over her mouth.

"Hey! Isn't that the boy? The one you were with?" she asks, tugging at your arm.

You look, and sure enough, there he is, getting the shit kicked out of him by the jerk that had been hitting on you earlier. You are infuriated, and before you can think better of it, or your friends can stop you, you're storming down that alley.

"Liv! Come on! Don't! Just...just forget about it!" Sarah sounds nervous as she calls after you.

Gabby rolls her eyes and groans. You and Gabby don't really get along all too well anyway so you just ignore her.

"Well, well, well," Mr. Asshole mutters, "if it isn't the pretty little bitch herself."

He has an ugly smirk painted across his face, and his words sting you. You swore that you would never let anyone disrespect you the way your stepfather disrespected your mother. Before he has any idea what's hit him, your fist collides with his face and you're certain you've broken his nose. But you don't stop there. The heel of your platform shoe, which you're now very grateful for wearing, plants itself into his solar plexus and he doubles over in pain. You knee him in the groin and he's writhing in pain on the ground.

"You wanna say that again?" you glower at him.

He scurries to his feet and takes off. His friends look from him, to you, and you actually growl at them. They follow his lead and take off running down the alley. You turn to the boy slouched against the wall, and kneel next to him. He's groaning from pain, and maybe a little bit of embarrassment. You pull tissues out of your handbag and start dabbing at his bloody nose and split lip. You notice the makings of a black eye and you look down. He winces and you draw back. You stare at each other silently for a minute.

"Thanks for earlier," you mumble softly, realizing you'd never actually thanked him.

He laughs and tells you, "Anytime, sweetheart."

You smile fades, and when he notices, so does his.

"Don't...don't call me that," you're stuttering, "My mom, she used to call me that. She...she's..." you're nearly in tears as you finish, "she passed away."

His hand cups your face and he wipes away a single tear as his fingers gently stroke your cheek.

"Hey," he coaxes, "it's okay." After a moment, he adds, "I just lost my mom too."

Your gaze locks on his, and you lean in tentatively, lips parted. He leans forward to meet you, and your lips fit perfectly together. One hand runs through his hair as his tongue enters your mouth, and the other is gliding its way down his front. On your hand's way to his lap, your fingers brush up against his arousal, and he pulls back, embarrassed. You're not embarrassed at all, and you stare at him through dark, lust laden eyes. You watch as his pupils dilate, and he pulls you up. Again taking your hand in his, he starts leading you down the alley, you assume, in the direction of his car. He grins when you unyieldingly oblige.

"Hey! Hey! What're you doing?" Sarah calls out, and it startles you. You'd forgotten she was there.

You turn your head over your shoulder to glance back at her and shout, "I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

A few minutes later, your back is pressed up against his car door and he's fumbling with the handle of the door to the backseat. You have no idea why you're about to do what you're about to do. All you know is that right now, it feels so right that it seems like the only thing to do. Once the door is open, you slide in, pulling him with you. You stradle his lap and continue kissing him as he unties the straps to your tube top, and pull back as he lifts it over your head, exposing your breasts. His hands run down your sides, skitter across your back, and unzip your leather mini. You shimmie out of it, push his unbuttoned blouse off of his shoulders, and lift his t-shirt over his head. You sit on the seat next to him, legs curled underneath you, and watch as he sheds his jeans and boxers. You slip out of your panties, and the two of you silently stare at each other for a few moments. He fishes around for something in his pocket, and pulls out a plastic wrapper. He rips it open and clumsily tries to slip it on, but he can't seem to get it. A laugh escapes your lips and he looks hurt.

"Sorry," he mutters, "I'm just, a little nervous I guess. I've never actually done this before."

His confession shocks you, and yours spills from your lips, "Me either."

He chuckles nervously, "Pretty stereotypical first time, huh?"

You laugh with him, because it is horribly cliche, but you secretly love it. It's the only normal thing you'll probably ever get to experience. Your eyes travel to his erection, and you stare at it in awe. You've never actually seen one in person. Instinctively, you reach out, and your fingertips graze it gently. Your hand retracts instantly when he yelps.

"Sorry," you mumble, and bite your lip.

"No," he reassures, "no, you're fine. It's just...sensitive."

He smiles at you again, placing a sloppy kiss on your palm, and suddenly you remember something that Sarah told you about using your hands. You spit into your hand, and swirl the saliva around with your tongue. Your fingers wrap firmly around him, and once you're comfortable with the grasp you have on him, you start pumping him. His eyes close and he's sucking sharp breaths in and letting out strangled gasps. A few minutes later, you feel him throbbing in your hand and he lets out a guttural moan. You instantly release him, and he opens his eyes slowly to look at you. You lay back slowly, indicating that you're ready. This time he has no trouble slipping the condom on, and he hovers over you before he parts your thighs and enters you. You gasp out a little bit from pain, and a little bit from the new sensation. He rests there until you finish adjusting, and his hand runs up your side and around your breast, exploring. He leans down and kisses your neck, and you arch up into him, indicating that he can start.

He moves slowly within you at first, being careful not to cause you too much pain, and you find that you're enjoying this more than everyone told you you should. You wrap your legs around his waist and your hands grip his taut ass, driving him deeper inside of you. You utter one word between breathless gasps, "faster" and he rocks his hips into you with increasing speed. He glides over a spot inside of you, and your breath hitches in your chest, and your body arches again into his. He does it again, then again, until you're moaning very loudly, and you feel the most intense release of pleasure surge throughout your enire being. From the sounds he's making, you can tell that he's right there with you, and you're both panting once you've finished.

He lifts himself off of you, and manages with shaky breaths, "That was...amazing."

"Yeah," is the only dumbfounded response you can form as you dress hastily.

Once you're completely clothed, you tuck your hair behind your ears and head for the car window.

"Hey," he stops you, "I don't know your name."

You chuckle and tell him, "You probably never will."

He laughs and asks, "Well, do you want to know mine?"

You reply with a simple, "No," and climb out of the car window, smirking at him.

As you head back up the alley in search of your friends, you risk a glance back at him, and watch as he shakes his head, grinning like an idiot.


End file.
